What C Stands For
by Sherryn1
Summary: Post- Forever Charmed. Phoebe spends the night before her wedding looking back at the best time of her life... oneshot


This is probably one of the only times I will acknowledge that coop ever existed, so for all you guys that LIKED Forever Charmed, dig in. otherwise, it's still a melancholy one-shot that tells of the irony that is love. It was six in the morning when I started writing this, and im not gona stop until I finish. The best ideas just come to you…. the song's My Immortal by Evanescence, a group of artists whose songs I think describe phoebe and cole's relationship tremendously well. Just something to put you in the mood for the story… Now in hopes of not breaking that mood later on, ill beg now. Please, please, _please_ review if u want me to keep writing, u guys are my fuel to keep going. I promise I won't mention coop again!

_If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave, _

_Cause your presence still lingers here and it won't leave me alone_

_These wounds won't seem to heal_

_This pain is just too real_

_Theres just too much that time cannot erase_

_You face it haunts, my once pleasant dreams_

_Your voice has chased away all the sanity in me……_

Middle closet. Left corner. Under her old photo album.

She knew exactly where it was.

Of course she only took it out when she was sure nobody would see. Nobody could know. The contents of that box had to stay pristine, perfect. Untouched and un-tarnished by anything else in her life.

They were from the best times of her life.

Just as the first rays of the sun boldly shined through her window, she gently pulled the wooden box from under stacks of other mementos. Her fingers slowly ran over the surface of the box. If she closed her eyes she could still pretend it was then. That she was just waiting for him to come.

That he could come, would come. All she had to do was wait.

But that sensation soon vanished and was replaced with the familiar feeling of dread accompanied by the knowledge that he would never come back. She opened her eyes again, and 

her hand softly pressed on the clamp so that it slid open. She swung the wooden lid on old hinges until it hung limply from the back.

Phoebe smiled at the contents of the box, contents she had memorized a lifetime ago. Everything that had to do with Cole. It wasn't that she didn't care about Coop, she did. She wouldn't be marrying him to today if she didn't.

But Cole….. She would have given her life for Cole, she still would. No other man had ever made that great an impact on her. No other man ever would.

But she was content with Coop, happy. She could have that little girl she wanted so badly, a safe home, a normal life. No fear. No pain. No regret. No passion. No more of that worry that throbbed in her soul every time he shimmered out of her room. No more of that sweet relief that filled her heart every time he came back to her safe. No more hours of staring into clear cerulean depths both haunted by a past he couldn't deny, and lighted by hopes of a future he wouldn't deny. Eyes that weren't afraid to say to the world; she's my girl, and I'm willing to give up my life for her. No more Cole.

With shaking fingers Phoebe lifted the first item in the box. A small piece of paper creased in the center. A spell she had written to find Cole after she had faked his vanquish. She murmured the words quietly, smiling while she did.

"Guiding spirits I ask your charity,

lend me your focus and clarity,

lead me to the one I cannot find,

restore that and my piece of mind."

But it didn't work. It never worked, yet each time she tried, knowing it would fail, just for the spark of hope it wouldn't. After was a page from the book of shadows. Her finger ran over the strip of photos as she beamed at the memory. He had insisted they go into to the photo booth in the first place, "preserve this moment". Phoebe was glad she'd listened to him. The second the two of them had crammed into the small room, he'd pulled her onto his lap, insisting there wasn't enough space to sit any other way. Then there was the writing. She knew she was the one who wrote it, yet it seemed it was somebody completely different. Yet she had the same feeling reading it now, as she had writing it, even though she wouldn't have admitted it at the time.

Phoebe looked down to find the one phrase she had added at the bottom, "Love of my life". After the old page was another single photograph. Her in a black corset at Brazil's, his arm wound tightly around her waist. Their laughs frozen in a careless photograph. "You're my favorite accessory, you look so good on me!" She hadn't known he was a demon at the time, but it hadn't mattered. This picture was followed by several others. Of them in other clubs, parties, dates, 

quiet nights in, care-free days out. A few of them on the beach, him proudly gazing at her the way no other man ever had, or ever would. A small slightly thicker piece of paper fluttered to the floor from between the photographs.

She picked it up. It read; Cole Turner: Assistant District Attorney. This was from the beginning of their relationship, when he was still posing as San Francisco's A.D.A. That was how he had introduced himself when they first met. Her hand had immediately flown up at his request. She hadn't had any idea how this man would affect her life, but something about him (other than his stunningly good looks) had grabbed her attention and wouldn't let go….

And then a mid-night blue man's dress shirt. She stared at this piece the longest. Finally she held the soft, rich fabric against her face and inhaled deeply.

It still smelled of him.

Another collared shirt, this one in a baby blue that matched his eyes, tears were now brimming hers. She pushed those away quickly to reveal an athame underneath. The one she had used to cut his hand in the mausoleum. He hadn't winced, just looked at her questioningly, a fire glowing in his eyes, a smile of realization on his face. That was the first time she had felt that incredible feeling, the one that seemed to be the core of their relationship. Love, hope, passion, fear, and a deep yearning all mixed together to form an emotion she only felt when she was near him.

And then two potions, one a deep red, the next a solid pink. One to vanquish him, the other to strip his powers. Sadly, the less harmful one had done the most damage. Cole had struggled with Belthazar, yes, but that was a part of him. She had never meant to use that power-stripping potion, but that was the way things happened, and she accepted it. But then the Source…. And that god-damned Seer. No she wouldn't let the Source's memories taint Cole's.

She quickly moved onto the next item, a single dried pink rose. None of them had brought a camera to the small ceremony, so she had kept the rose as a reminder. The one she had tucked into his jacket pocket before the ceremony at the mausoleum. She remembered pricking her finger on one of the thorns, he had lifted her hand to his mouth and tenderly licked off that single drop of blood.

She missed him.

The next few things in the box brought back the most bitter-sweet memories. She held up the first article of clothing – a baby's shirt. Cole had bought it on a spree the moment he had found out she was pregnant. He had been so excited, so happy.

She had been terrified.

Then there was a bib, and a tiny pair of booties, and finally a small teddy bear – a replica of the giant one he'd placed on their bed in the penthouse. She'd never forget the look on his face when she walked in to find their bedroom to find the place covered in balloons. The way he bent down to kiss her stomach. He would have made a wonderful father. Every night he insisted she sit up in bed so he could whisper promises against her still-flat abdomen, tell the baby how he already loved him. Every night he would sleep with one protective arm pressed against her stomach. He wanted that baby. Tears stung her eyes. She wanted that baby.

Even though she had thought about it before, she cried every time she thought about the future she could have had, the son she didn't have the chance to know. Then there was the letter. She opened it, even though all the words had been ingrained in her mind long ago, just to see his hand-writing once again. She had killed him, and he wanted her to be happy. Not wanting to start sobbing uncontrollably the way she knew she soon would, Phoebe wiped her tears away, ready for the final two pieces in the box.

Two wedding bands, one his, one hers. Her finger ran over the smooth contours of his before she placed it back in its box carefully. She slid hers on her finger and relished the feeling, unable to stop a smile from spreading on her face – hope. After what seemed too short a time, the ring returned to its rightful place, followed by all the other contents of the box.

With a smile on her face, she once again closed the lid of the box that represented everything she could have had, wanted to have so badly. The box that served as a reminder of everything she lost, the box that could still make her eyes radiate love and happiness. That box returned to its place as the beams of light invaded her room, marking the beginning of the day, and the end of her dreams.

She could pretend she didn't, but Phoebe knew.

The C stood for Cole.


End file.
